


The Day Always Breaks

by wordsxstars



Series: Tomorrow Is A New Day [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Coffee at 3am, Other, a bit of irondad because i cant not write them, basically 3am is the best time, cutest friendship i dont accept critisism, hot chocolate at 3am, natasha is secretly a softie, peter parker is shit at keeping secrets, spider friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 09:04:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20543594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsxstars/pseuds/wordsxstars
Summary: "So," she says, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're Spiderman."His face takes on a slightly defensive look, fingers playing with the thin metal bands that seem to never leave his wrists."Yes."-In which Natasha Romanoff realises she's not the only spider around, and that the kid is worse at keeping a regular sleep schedule than she is.





	The Day Always Breaks

She meets Tony's kid for the first time a week after Thanos. 

It's almost four in the morning when Natasha slips into the kitchen for something to drink. In the five years everyone had been gone, she had gotten into the annoying habit of waking up half way through the night and craving something hot. It's stupid, something used to comfort a _child. _And yet she hadn't been able to shake the habit, no matter how hard she tried. So she doesn't bother anymore. 

It's not easy to navigate the small lake house without waking anyone up. After everything, she suspects Tony is usually only half asleep, especially with a daughter in the next room. Often, when she goes downstairs, she'll be joined by the billionaire ten minutes later. He never asks her why she's up, and she's glad because that would require explaining the mix of fear and exhaustion that often accompany her in the night, and she would rather just avoid the conversation all together. 

She suspects he lets her have the privacy because he doesn't want to answer the question's himself, which she respects. They all have secrets they don’t want to share, even after everything. 

Tony having a secret kid however, was something she had _not_ see coming.

"Um. Hi?"

She is met with a pair of huge brown eyes as he speaks, and she's immediately hit with the thought that the kid looks a hell of a lot like the billionaire asleep upstairs. He's young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, dressed in iron man pyjamas (a smile twitches on her face at this), and a faded MIT sweatshirt. A textbook sits open in front of him, but he's definitely no longer paying attention to it.

She doesn't say anything in answer to him, instead opting to watch the kid fidget for a few seconds. She hasn't seen him before, and yet there's _something_ about him that seems so, so familiar. Instead of answering, she goes over to the cupboard and starts to search for something. When she finds it, a half smile of gratitude flickers over her face. Instant hot chocolate. She's not surprised that Tony's been paying attention.

It only takes a few minutes for her to make the mug, and she's hit with an embarrassing wave of relief when the hot drink is finally in her hands. She had never liked the cold, but this was getting excessive. Part of her wonders when dislike had morphed into something closer to fear, not that she would ever admit that out loud. Like most fears, she thinks, it's irrational.

She turns her attention back to the kid in front of her, but before she can speak, his eyes widen almost comically. 

"You- You're the black widow." 

That was definitely awe in his voice. Awe and a bit of fear. She's not really sure what to say to that, so instead resists the urge to roll her eyes and glances at what he's doing. 

There's a physics textbook open in front of him, and a piece of paper with some hastily scribbled math on it. 

"How old are you?"

He blinks at her, the same look of awe in his eyes. 

"Sixteen."

She nods towards the book, raising her eyebrows. "That’s a college textbook."

He flushes, twisting a thin metal band that's on his wrist. "I like science."

She watches him for another second, a frown furrowing her brows. 

"What's your name?'

He jumps, clearly not expecting the question, and once again Natasha has to hold back a smile of amusement. 

"Peter."

Peter. She has a vague flash of memory, and _finally_ her brain catches up, realising why he seemed so familiar. The kid who had been crouched over Tony after the snap, shouting for someone to help… He had been in a Spiderman suit.

Oh.

She’s honestly surprised it takes her more than five minutes to figure it out, but in her defence, she hasn’t had a coffee and it isn't even five am.

“So," she says, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're Spiderman."

His face takes on a slightly defensive look, fingers playing with the thin metal bands that seem to never leave his wrists. If she had to guess, she would say they're his web shooters, or something that expands into them anyway. She wonders for a second why he's wearing them at three in the morning.

_Probably for the same reason you sleep with a knife under your pillow._

They all know that they're safe, that they won. It's going to take some getting used to though.

"Yes."

She shrugs, going back to her hot chocolate, and she can feel his eyes on her for another couple of seconds before he returns to the book in front of him. Part of her is curious, wants to know more about him. There's another, much smaller part, that wants to ask (with a small degree of concern) what he's doing up at almost four in the morning studying for physics. 

She doesn't say anything. 

It really is none of her business. 

Doesn't stop her from being curious though. 

Two minutes later, she's done with her hot chocolate. She rinses the mug out and walks out, not sparing a glance behind her. 

\- 

The next day is the same, except its five in the morning, and she's down first, this time with a coffee. 

Twenty minutes later, Peter stumbles in looking half asleep, but there's a barely concealed panic in his eyes that she sees as soon as he meets her gaze. She doesn't ask, and he doesn't say anything, but five minutes later she hands him a mug of hot coffee. 

His eyes show a terrifying amount of gratitude. 

She thinks she should say something, try to help him in some way. She's no strangers to nightmares herself. But the words don't come. 

"Did you do the physics test?"

In the space of a second, the haunted look in his eyes morphs into confusion, and he blinks at her before a smile flickers across his face. 

"Yeah. The extra studying helped in the end."

"Good." 

She nodded, feeling a distinct tug of awkwardness that she hadn't felt in a while. Talking to world leaders, superheroes and billionaires? Sure. Talking to a sixteen year old? Not so much. He drinks the coffee with a sigh of what seems to be relief. 

"Why are you up?" The question is quiet, and Natasha hesitates for a second before answering. 

"I'm not too good at sleeping. Never needed much anyway."

The kid frowns, hands wrapped around his mug. "You sound like Tony. Everyone needs sleep."

She raises her eyebrows, not bothering to respond, and he sighs, fingers tapping out a beat on the table.

"I had a nightmare, that's different."

"Is it?"

For a second, she wonders if he's going to glare at her, or maybe leave. He doesn't do either of those things, and instead goes back to the coffee in front of him. He's playing with the metal bands around his wrists again. A nervous habit. She doesn't mention it, doesn't say anything. It's not her place to push, and even if it was, she's not sure she would. 

"Miss Romanoff-"

"Nat." She doesn't think before she speaks, but doesn't regret it either. "Just call me Nat, okay?"

Peter nods, flexing his fingers with a frown. "Thank you for the coffee."

She half smiles, starting to make herself a fresh cup. "Not a problem. You didn't look like you wanted to go back to sleep." There's a question there, a question layered under the casual tone, the normalcy of something like a mug of coffee. The kid doesn't answer it, and she lets the whole thing drop. 

They sit in silence for a minute, and then Peter stretches not unlike a cat would, and takes his mug over to the sink.

"Thank you again." 

She just nods this time, and he walks out of the room. She hears him go back upstairs, and is surprised to find she's glad he's at least trying to get back to sleep. She may have a sleep schedule to rival Tony's, but that doesn't mean Peter Parker has to.

-

A week later, she doesn't even let herself wake up properly from the dream before she's half way downstairs, eyes blurry from sleep. There's a deep set panic under her skin, and the only clear thought in her mind is that she needs a light _on_, and something hot and sweet to wake her up.

Somehow, she makes it down the stairs without breaking her neck, trying desperately to control her breathing. She stumbles into the kitchen, dimly aware of Peter shooting up from his place at the table, concern written into every line of his body.

"Nat?"

She doesn't answer, _can't _answer right now. Part of her knows she should say something to ease his mind, to reassure him that she's fine. But at the moment, the definition of fine didn't extend to her and _god_ she can't breathe. 

She reaches for a mug with shaking hands, realising her mistake as soon as she lifts it out of the cupboard. The sound of shattering china echoes through the kitchen and she thinks she swears but there's nothing but white noise in her head and the panic that she just can't shake. She's at the lake cabin, with Peter, with Tony. And yet all she can see is red as the panic builds

Red walls, red floors, red blood. There's much blood on her hands, even if it's something she can't see. She no longer knows if the images she's seeing behind clenched shut eyes are dreams or memories. The line has blurred. 

She thinks she can hear Peter talking to someone. 

"FRIDAY? If Mr Stark wakes up, tell him I dropped a mug and that he doesn't need to worry." The words swim around her, floating in and out of her ears. Distantly, she registers that she's on her knees next to the broken coffee cup. She didn't remember falling. She can feel an ache in her knees, and knows that will hurt more later.

There's someone next to her now, and after a beat of silence, there's a hand on her arm. She thinks she flinches, but she feels far away from everything now. The memories are dragging her down. Maybe this is what drowning feels like. She can't seem to get enough air into her lungs.

"Nat, you need to breathe." 

Peter, that's Peter. Spiderman. But he doesn't sound like a superhero now, just a kid. She shakes her head, nails digging into her palms. 

"Nat." His voice is calm in a way she didn't expect to hear. "It's just a mug. You're okay."

"I can't-" She's ashamed of the sound of her voice. _Weak. _The voice that whispers in her ear is not her own. 

"Breathe," he says firmly. She knows she's not the only one who wakes up like this, and from the little that Tony has told her, this kid knows what he's doing. So she breathes.

Slowly, the red fades. 

She gives herself ten seconds to pull it together once she's sure she can breathe again. Ten seconds to inhale and exhale, ten seconds to feel the cold tiles beneath her, ten seconds to register the feel of her heart rate slowing back to normal. 

When she looks back to the teenager, he has too much concern in his eyes. She pushes herself to her feet on shaky legs, a dull pain shooting through her knees.

"So." Peter says, and she gets the urge to run out of the room to avoid the embarrassment she could feel starting to hit her. "Maybe trying to get out a mug while half asleep was not your best idea."

"I'll keep that in mind." She's so beyond thankful that her voice doesn't shake, not even a tiny bit. Thats relief she can feel, relief that he's not pushing her for answers. She turns towards the fridge, allowing the tension in her shoulders to fade. "Do you want coffee?'

"It's two in the morning."

She glances at the clock, seeing that it is in fact, two am. 

"Oh." She pauses. "hot chocolate then?"

Peter laughs, sounding much too awake for the time it was, and she takes that as confirmation. Five minutes later, she hands him a mug of the sweet drink. They sit in silence for a while, and she watches as Peter goes back to reading through the textbook that she hadn't noticed on the table before. It's chemistry this time. The cover is the shade of orange that would usually hurt her head, but she finds it weirdly soothing. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" Peter's voice is quiet, and part of her wants to say yes. She doesn't. 

"No." It comes out harsher than she intended it to, and she immediately feels bad.

But the teenager just nods, continuing the reading. She wonders if Tony knows that he's up half the days in the middle of the night. Probably. Clint told her once that parents had a creepy sixth sense that told them when anything was wrong with their kid. if Clint had it, Tony definitely did. 

She stands with a stretch when she's finished, leaving her mug in the sink. She's half way out of the door when she thinks to turn back, to nod at Peter. She ignores the embarrassment coiling in her stomach.

"Thank you."

He gives her a smile, and it's something with no layers or motives behind it. 

"It's all good."

She leaves then, making her way back to bed. She makes a mental note to ask Tony about how much he was aware of, just in case. 

\- 

Another night, another mug of coffee, another textbook. 

"Does Tony know you're down here a lot?" She asks, not looking up from her mug. 

Peter takes seven seconds to answer, and she, in the brief silence, wonders if giving him coffee at two in the morning had been a good idea. But then she reminds herself that he's sixteen, and would have definitely done it himself even if she hadn't been there. 

"He knows everything that goes on around here, so i'm guessing he does."

"You haven't talked to him about it?"

Peter glances at her, but then looks down at his textbook. It's physics again, and its making her head spin just looking at it. She's far from stupid, but smart enough to know that quantum mechanics is decidedly _not _her area of expertise.

"I have talked to him about it. There's not a lot I can do though."

The suggestion slips before she can think about what she's said. 

"You could go and see someone about it?"

His hand stills the writing of an equation. "You mean like therapy?"

She shrugs, taking a drink of coffee. The warmth spreads through her, and she can't bring herself to feel bad about the habit of caffeine in the middle of the night.

"It's just an idea. You said you get nightmares?"

He nods, drumming a beat on the table. "They're not stopping. I don't-" He exhales shakily. "I don't know if they're ever going to stop."

Not for the first time, Natasha wonders whether she should push for details like she's done before with Tony, like she's done with so many people. But something about the vulnerability on Peter's face makes her hesitate. If he wanted her to know details, he would offer them. She knows that much from her own experience.

His voice snaps her out of her own thoughts.

“Nat?”

She makes a humming noise that passes for an answer, taking another drink of coffee.

“Do they ever stop?"

She considers lying for less than a second. Peter isn't stupid. She can't protect him by bullshitting him. Instead she just shrugs. 

"I don't know. Maybe they will one day. I'll let you know if it happens." She forces herself to soften her tone. Sometimes, it was easy to forget she was just talking to a sixteen year old kid, whether he was an enhanced superhero or not. "But it does get better with time, even if they never completely stop."

He seems to be reassured by this, and within seconds has returned to his work. She wonders if he's going to say anything more about what they'd beed discussing. From the finality of how he turned back to the textbook, she wasn't sure. 

Five minutes passed in silence, save for the soothing sound of pen against paper, and then he looked up at her again. 

"Do you think it will help?"

She doesn't need to ask to know that he's referring to the therapy, and she thought about it for a second before replying, the words built to reassure him feeling alien on her tongue. 

"It helps some people, it doesn't help others. Most of the team have been in and out of it at least ones. Tony says it helps, Steve didn't think it did anything for him." She shrugs again, frowning slightly as she realises her coffee has gone cold. "There's no harm in trying it. And it's definitely nothing to be ashamed of."

She watches as his fingers curl and uncurl around the mug still in his hands. There is a small white scar running down the length of his index finger. She wonders where he got it. 

"Okay. Maybe I'll give it a go."

She nods, and they don't say anything more. 

But Natasha can't help the small feeling of relief that tugs at her heart.

-

The next time she sees Peter, almost a week later, he's cracking open the door to the cabin at ten to midnight, and he's soaking wet. 

Something in her chest tightens as he meets her gaze, because she can so clearly see the pain in his eyes. 

"What happened?" 

Her voice comes out so much sharper than she intended it to, but there's nothing she can do about that now. She walks over, and as she gets closer, she sees the blood on his suit. 

"You_-"_

"It's not mine." His voice is quiet, no louder than a whisper, and both so much older and younger than the voice of a sixteen year old. "I'm fine Nat."

She shakes her head, and she can't work out where this fear is coming from. It's completely illogical, she knows this. It's not like her to get attached, to be so _scared_ for another person. She wants to push for details, and is seconds away from doing just that, before she realises that there are priorities. 

Shivers wrack Peter's body, and a flash of memory has her whispering a curse under her breath. Another night, where Peter had been spouting random facts about Spiders. It had made her smile. 

_We don't thermoregulate you know?_

She had laughed at the time, rolling her eyes. _We?_

He had looked mildly offended at that. _I consider myself one of them. Don't be rude about my people._

She had laughed again, and he had smiled, and for the first time in a while, a weight in her chest had lifted.

She certainly isn't laughing now. 

"We need to get you warmed up."

Peter mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _okay, mum_, but doesn't protest as she pulls the hoodie she's wearing over her head and shoves it into his arms. It's only once he's put it on, already looking warmer, that he speaks again. 

"This is... This is Mr Stark's jumper?"

She shrugs, already moving towards the kitchen counter to start making a hot drink. 

"He has all the nice designer things. And he can't wear ten hoodies at once. Everyone steals them." She nods towards the sofa where Peter's textbook had been abandoned from it's last use. Next to it is a faded MIT sweatshirt that he had left there. "You do the same."

He shoots her a look that is so _Tony _that she wonders again how the two of them aren't actually related. She can't stop a smile from tugging at her lips. "You know i'm right"

He makes a huffing sound that she decides to take as confirmation, and hands him a mug of hot chocolate as they move to sit down on the sofa. She's put marshmallows in it too. If Clint walked in right now, he would piss himself laughing. The deadly black widow, making hot chocolate for a sixteen year old that she felt a weird sense of protectiveness over. 

Sometimes she can't believe it either. 

"Thank you," he says after a while, and she glances at him, eyebrows raised. He half smiles. "You don't push me for anything. Ever. You just... listen. And make me hot drinks."

She frowns slightly. "You're welcome? I think."

He pulls the jumper tight around him, tugging the sleeves over his fingers. "Why are you up every night?"

Instantly, she can feel her walls going up at the question. She shoves back at them, forcing herself to relax, to keep her voice calm. "I thought not pushing was our thing."

He doesn't answer that, only looks at her, and suddenly, she's struck yet again by his age. He looks older and somehow simultaneously so much younger than sixteen, and she's not sure what to make of it. There's a moment of silence, and then she forces herself to speak. 

"Bad dreams. Not a new thing. Even before Thanos, my sleep schedule was pretty fucked. I've never slept a lot."

He nods slowly, and she closes her eyes, the smell of the chocolate wrapping around her like an embrace. It's silent outside, the air still and calm for the first time in a while. Peaceful. If she could hit a pause button right now, she would. 

"Nat?" The teen's voice reaches her, and its soft, almost childlike. She opens her eyes, looking over at him. 

"Yes?"

He takes a shuddering breath in, and she wonders if the silence makes him feel this peaceful too. Wonders if perhaps, its the peace that prompts the next words out of his mouth. 

"I'm.. god i'm so tired."

Her heart aches at the words, because she gets it, she really gets it.

"I know." They're the only words out of her mouth, the only words she can think of. How do you comfort someone who's demons are so similar to your own?

Peter blinks fast, and his hands are trembling around the mug. 

"I just want to be able to sleep."

"I know," she says again, and this time her voice is softer. 

He shakes his head, placing the mug carefully on the coffee table in front of them. "But I-"

"Cant," she finishes for him, feeling an weird mix of awkwardness and protectiveness as he turns to face her and she sees the redness of his eyes. "You can't sleep. Why?"

She knows what the answer will be, because it's the same as hers, and it's the same as what Tony would say if someone asked him the same thing. 

"I'm scared."

She doesn't reply, but just waits. A second later he continues in a rush that tells her he's been wanting to get this out for a while. So she does what she does best, and listens. 

"I'm scared of the dreams, but I'm also scared of waking up." He twists his fingers together in a way that seems almost painful. "I don't want to wake up and find that all the good things were a dream. Mr Stark- Tony, nearly died." He hesitates. "I heard his heart stop Nat. I heard it. You could have died in that battle too. He's alive, and you're alive, but I can't help thinking that if i go to sleep and wake up... You'll all be gone."

She's silent for longer than she should be, thinking through his words. 

"You know that both of us are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, right?"

He raises his eyebrows, even through the exhaustion on his face, as if to say _duh. _She ignores that. 

"And you know that Tony is too goddam stubborn to actually die."

"But he did."

She shrugs. "He came back. Point proven. He's too stubborn to die and _stay _dead."

He nods, and she sees some of the tension in his shoulder ease. "And you?"

She tips her head to the side, watching him. She gets the strangest urge to reach out and smooth his hair that's dried into wild curls. The maternal instinct shocks her for a second as she tries to gather her thoughts.

"I'm not going anywhere." 

Clint would be laughing if he could see her now, she knows that much for sure. She can imagine the words. 

_A sixteen year old turned the Black Widow soft?_

She doesn't care. 

Peter stares at her for a moment longer, searching for a lie in her eyes. Satisfied that there is none, he nods. Half a second later, he shifts closer, tugging one of Tony's many throws over him and curling up next to her, resting his head on her shoulder. 

She freezes, not knowing how to react to the teenager she now had falling asleep on her. 

"Peter?"

"Mmm?" The sleepiness in his voice tugs at her heart, and she realises that if the avengers walked in right now to call her on a mission, she wouldn't move an inch.

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"M'safer here." He says against her shoulder, and she thinks she might be_ melting._

Okay then. 

She reaches up to brush his hair out of his face and he nestles closer with a sigh. She resists the urge to smile and instead closes her eyes. 

Sleep comes faster than it has in a while.

-

The next night, she's downstairs again at 1am

Two hours later, Peter hasn't come down. 

When the clock ticks over 5am, she stands up, hissing at the tightness in her muscles, and takes her empty coffee mug over to the sink. 

Then she goes back to bed. 

On the way back to her room, she walks past Peter's. His door is slightly ajar, and the curtains are half open. She can see him in bed, fast asleep, curled up with far too many blankets and an iron man plushie that she will _definitely _be teasing him about later. 

He looks peaceful. 

She stays watching him for a few more minutes, something that had been tense in her chest easing at the sight. Safe, asleep, and resting. 

That's relief she can feel. So much relief that for a second it takes her breath away. 

"Tasha?"

The voice comes from behind her and she whips around, instantly relaxing as she see's who it is. 

"Tony, what are you doing up?" 

He raises his eyebrows, nodding towards the door they were now both standing outside. 

"Checking on my kid." His eyes narrow slightly, but there's no annoyance behind the words, no suspicion. "Someone beat me to it, it seems."

She shrugs. "I was just walking past, happened to see the door open. Coincidence."

"Right. Of course." He pulls out his phone, flicking it once, and an image comes to life between them, glowing softly in the darkness. It's her and Peter, both asleep on the sofa. The scene from last night. 

She raises her eyebrows. "I forget that you have cameras everywhere."

He shakes his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "FRIDAY just monitors for me." A hint of a smile. "She sent me this last night."

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, whether its to defend herself or not, she doesn't know. Tony beats her to it. 

"Tasha." 

More than ten years of friendship, and she's never been able to get him to stop calling her that. She's pretty sure that he only does it _because _it used to piss her off. Now it just makes her smile. 

"Yes."

"Thank you, for looking after him."

"I didn't-" But then she stops, looking again at Peter who's still sleeping with a look of absolute peace on his face. She thinks back to their conversation the previous night. _I'm not going anywhere. _When she looks back to Tony, he's smiling. 

"He's a good kid," the billionaire says, and she nods. 

"He really is."

She watches Tony watching Peter for a second. There's an expression on his face that she's only seen a couple of times before. When Morgan is downstairs laughing at something Thor said, when Pepper is wrapped up in a throw on the sofa, when Natasha comes to stay with fewer and fewer clothes every time, because she's starting to leave more here every time she goes again, when all of the team come over for dinner. There's so much love in his eyes, and there and then, she knows that if the universe tried to take Peter Parker, Tony Stark would rip it apart with his bare hands. 

She's surprised to find that she would help. 

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" He's still watching Peter with a look of fierce protectiveness on his face. She struggles to find the words she needs as he turns back to her. 

"Thank you... for bringing him into all of this. For bringing him into our lives."

She knows its a selfish notion, and that it's true maybe Peter Parker would be happier away from the superhero life. But then again maybe it isn't. She thinks of Peter's smile every time he walks in the door to the cabin. She thinks of the childlike excitement on his face when he see's telling her something new he learnt at school. She thinks of his intelligence, the same intelligence that manufactured his own webs, that's allowed him to stay alive, thats helped to save the world. She thinks of how much happier Tony looks now that he's back. She thinks about how much happier _she _is with the teen around, though that's something she won't be admitting to anyone other than the man next to her now. 

Tony looks at her, really looks at her, and she knows he gets it. He gets it. 

Nothing more needs to be said. 

As Natasha heads back to bed, the first rays of dawn break over the lake house. 

-

Therapy helps. Peter starts sleeping more. 

There are still nights that he comes downstairs, still nights they both end up with coffee at a ridiculous time of the morning, and there are other nights where they're both in bed until later hours.

They're both getting there, and it's helping her too. 

It's a start. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hell this one took a LONG time, but it's one of my favourite thing's I've ever written. I love the potential that Nat and Peter have as friends, and let's be honest, Peter Parker would 100% turn every one of the avengers soft.  
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing this. If you want to come scream at me on social media, my instagram and tumblr are the same as this account ( [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wordsxstars) and [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/wordsxstars/) )  
I love you all, and thank you for the continuous support on my fics xxx  
-  
Also, I suggest everyone checks out “Hot Chocolate” by @Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so because it’s the fic that inspired me to write this one, it’s 100% Incredible writing, and is also one of my favourite pieces of writing ever!!


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